Gemotions

He unearthed the thing during a bout of restless energy, feeling the familiar pull to make something, to *do* something. It was buried deep in the earth near the old well. The box was made of brass, its surface corroded with age. Thomas felt a compulsion, a wild surge he couldn't explain.

His hands fumbled with the clasp. It sprung open with a metallic snap. Inside was a collection of small, intricately carved wooden figures. He picked one up, turning it over in his hands. A surge of pleasure, intense and unexpected, rolled through him. He forgot the dust and the heat, lost in the miniature world before him.